


Change of status

by blackcrystaly



Series: The other side of the mirror [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dom!Sherlock, Dom/sub, Light Bondage, M/M, PWP, Sherlock is a consulting criminal, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2018-01-03 01:48:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackcrystaly/pseuds/blackcrystaly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Before he even realized it John Watson had agreed to live with Sherlock Holmes, dominant and owner of one of the most exclusive sex clubs in London. Also, as he was bound to find out pretty soon, one of the most respected -and only consulting- criminal in the world."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change of status

**Author's Note:**

> First things first: this work is mostly a crazy idea that took over my brain, so I just had to write it down. I'll probably came back several times to change little things, so I hope you can bear with me. 
> 
> Second: on this universe everyone is a submissive or a dominant.
> 
> This story had been betaed by the wonderful Leah_Ester, she is a miracle worker. Any remaining mistake is my entirely my fault.

John H. Watson came back to London broke physically, psychologically and financially. The first and second part was mostly taken care of by the army, since they were paying for his treatments. The last one everyone pretended he managed with his pension.

His sister tried to be supportive and offered to let him stay at her house, but he had “been there, done that” and was not so desperate as to accept ever again if he could help it. Moreover, since Clara had moved out, he really didn’t want to be there to witness how Harry tried to kill herself with alcohol.

So, he had to find an affordable place to live and a job. Lately, he had barely managed to secure a couple of interviews and the only flat he had found was small and lifeless. It was cheap, which was something, and he knew he should be happy he was able to get it but he hated it. Every day he contemplated taking the quick way out. He eventually talked himself out of it but it was becoming increasingly difficult to find good reasons to resist the temptation.

John had begun a little routine after every failed job interview; he would take a walk which would always lead him to a nearby park. On one such walk he was surprised to meet an old acquaintance: Mike Stamford, a school mate who offered to introduce him to another man he knew who was looking for a partner to share living accommodations. He warned the blond that the man was a little eccentric and not really sociable but maybe they could get along. Mike went so far as to admit he didn't have the least idea why he would be looking for someone when he was presumably well off.

Watson decided he didn’t have all that much to lose, so he followed Mike to a nearby house. If that was the place, John doubted he could even afford the thought of living there, but didn’t say anything. Once they got inside he almost ran into a tall brunette who was apparently leaving, if the fact that he was tightening his scarf was any indication.

“Sorry…” He began to apologize, while the unknown man took a step back and studied him carefully, staring at him almost to the point of being rude. Suddenly the brunette turned to Mike.

“Your phone,” the brunette ordered.

Stamford informed the man that he had forgotten it somewhere inside the house and that he would go look for it. Before his old mate could, John took his cell from his pocket and offered it to the younger man. It was the least he could do after almost bumping into the man, he thought.

The brunette took it with a knowing smile and while writing what seemed to be a long text message he asked the question that would be forever burned into John’s memory as the one which changed his life: “Afghanistan or Iraq?”

John was taken aback, and while he was confused he answered nonetheless.

“Afghanistan, but how...?”

Then the man began to explain very quickly all the little things he had noticed that had given John away. No one had ever paid that much attention to him, and somehow it made John feel both special and awed at the taller man’s ability.

Eventually, he realized this man was the one Mike had been talking about. But he was nothing like John had been expected when Stamford had warned him of the unsociable behavior. To be honest, he hadn’t really thought much of it at all.

Before leaving the house, the man identified himself as Sherlock Holmes and told him to go to 221b Baker Street since he had decided that John would do as a flatmate. Watson looked at the other, confused. How could he make such an important decision based on less than five minutes of seeing each other? But when Holmes told him he already knew all there was to know about him, strangely John believed him.

Mike eventually told him that the brunette was always like that. But he absolutely refused to say any more about what Sherlock did for a living and his old mate got red in the face every time the doctor brought up, the issue making him even more interested and curious

Later that evening John arrived at the address provided, deciding that even if he didn’t get to live in such a nice place as the house seemed to be at least he would have met an interesting person. The man he had been introduced to earlier that day arrived a little after Watson and chastised him from not going inside at once, but John just frowned and informed the brat that he did have manners and he didn’t live there yet. Sherlock smiled brightly and opened the door, leading him inside.

The place was huge, well built and solid. An older woman came out to greet the brunette and told him that several people had called him while he had been absent. And then she studied John carefully, eventually smiling at him.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Mrs. Hudson if you follow me I’ll take your…”

“He isn’t a client, Mrs. Hudson. John’ll be living here,” Sherlock interrupted in a tone of finality.

Watson looked at the man and raised an eyebrow, wondering what Holmes meant by a “client” and when he had agreed to live there. He didn’t even know if he could afford to be standing on the pristine floor!

Sherlock turned to the former soldier.

“Oh please, do keep up. Of course you’ll live here! You hate the place you’re living in and abhor the idea of living with your brother, maybe because he’s an alcoholic and was recently dumped by his wife which will only further his addiction. And you’ve been missing the presence of a dominant in your life and the thrill of danger… It couldn’t have been easy hiding your status in the army. That’s probably one of the things that helped to develop your mostly misdiagnosed PTSD.”

Once again, John was awed. “How in the world did you managed to gather all that… did you investigated me?” he asked suspiciously.

“As if I had to… you’re broadcasting your whole life to the world and I don’t mean that awful blog your therapist made you come up with…” he said in a scolding tone. He then proceed to explain to the former doctor how the fact that he was jumping at the chance to share the rent with a complete stranger provided the fact that he hated where he lived and that he was unwilling to go to his only living family. Then he accounted for Harry’s alcoholism and recent split up by the state of his phone. Finally, he explained all about John’s psychosomatic limp and the way his eyes followed Sherlock and how he’d held his breath every time Sherlock used a certain tone of voice most submissives tended to associate with dominants.

“Amazing!” was all John could say.

Sherlock seemed surprised at his response and confessed that wasn’t what people usually said.

“What do they say?”

“Piss off,” he confessed with what almost could be deemed a sad smile.

“Just one thing…” John began, hating to see such a wonderful man made even more depressed by something he couldn’t help. “Harry… it’s a short for Harriet… she’s my sister.”

“There’s always something…” The brunette said with a smile, while turning around and beginning the grand tour around the house: the bedrooms, the office, the archive, the library, the kitchen and two bathrooms. Before he even realized it John Watson had agreed to live with Sherlock Holmes, dominant and owner of one of the most exclusive sex clubs in London. Also, as he was bound to find out pretty soon, one of the most respected—and only—consulting criminal in the world.

He wanted to ask why Sherlock needed a flatmate when it was obvious that he didn't need anyone to help him cover living expenses, but there was no easy way to bring up the subject. Maybe the man was suffering from some kind of financial setback? God knew that the economy wasn't what it used to be, and maybe people were cutting back on their vices hindering Holmes' way of life?

John was moved at once but he didn’t exactly move out. Instead, he found himself opening the door to a moving crew which was bringing in his things from his old place not a hour after he had been informed he would be living with Sherlock from then on.

The brunette shrugged and told him he wasn’t taking any chances of Watson talking himself out of it. More importantly, he wouldn’t risk another dominant trying to steal him away; he had risked enough by meeting John so late in the game. The doctor told him that he was insane if Holmes thought there was someone ready to fight him for the possession of a broken submissive with a penchant for being “too independent for his own good” as he had been reliably informed by an old flame.

“Moreover, we haven’t even talked about the rent! I absolutely refuse not to pay for my share,” he said, calmly crossing his arms over his chest in what he thought was a defiant stance.

To the brunette the gesture came off almost defensive. It was obvious that John had been hurt before, many submissives had been before the laws granted them some special protection and independence. John didn’t want to be a kept submissive because he feared it would take his freedom away. As if he wanted a mindless toy! But Holmes could forgive the blond since he didn’t know him at all.

“You’ll give the money to Mrs. Hudson since she’s the one who takes care of those things,” Sherlock said dismissively, lying through his teeth since no one had to pay rent for living in his own house. The brunette had almost forgotten the lie he had told Mike's dominant in order to convince her that he wasn't as rich or as powerful as he appeared to be. That woman was an accomplished gold-digger, having claimed Mike when she discovered that his father was going to leave him a fortune when he died. Yet, he knew that Watson wasn't ready to know the truth. Instead, he would tell Mrs. Hudson to come up with an affordable sum which would be later given back to the good doctor for any excuse. What was more significant for Sherlock was that the former soldier hadn’t refused his claim, even if he didn’t consciously acknowledge it.

“I work odd hours, since my clients call anytime. I play the violin at any moment without notice and perform experiments on almost any surface available. Also, I sometimes go days without talking…” he warned the man while letting himself fall on the enormous sofa.

John looked at the other as if he had gone mad, what did that have to do with anything? At the end, he realized that Sherlock was waiting for some kind of answer so he said the only thing that came to his mind.

“Are you any good at it?”

The young man smiled wickedly and got up, walking over until he was almost towering over Watson.

“Oh, I’m the best…” he said in a sensual voice.

The good doctor blushed. He had meant to ask if the man was any good with the violin, since being subjected to mindless screeching wasn’t an enticing prospect, but he should have know that his question, as he had phrased it, was going to be misunderstood.

“I… I mean…” he began to stutter, while he took a step back. The dominant’s eyes were shining dangerously and John couldn’t help but be scared and excited and scared at how much it excited him. He hadn’t been with a dominant since Percy Phelps, and that had been ages ago. During his years in the army he had been mostly left alone since the few submissives who chose to serve were considered to be somewhat flawed. They were usually aggressive and more than a little dangerous when provoked.

He couldn’t help but follow with his eyes when Sherlock liked his lips predatorily… He had always been secretly partial to the dangerous types and he wanted to be owned even if for just a little while… It had been so long since he could let go and simply enjoy the freedom that came with submitting to a dominant who knew what he was doing.

The moment was completely lost when Sherlock’s phone rang, and he turned around to fish it out of his pocket. John couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. He bit his lower lip and tried to compose himself before the other finish the call.

A moment later Watson realized that the brunette was angry with whoever was he talking to. He could make out words like drug and suicide, a “don’t be stupid” and “cabbie”. His brain began to work and he realized that Holmes had to be talking about the case that had been on the news lately. Several people had turned up dead in very disreputable places. All of them seemed to have committed suicide but there was no note, not a single clue as to why they had done it, and even more worrisome they were using a drug no one had ever seen before.

What would Sherlock have to do with any of it?

Suddenly the talk seemed to change and Sherlock made a sound of displeasure, while telling the one on the other end that he would take care of it—whatever “it” was—right then and there, so he had to take care of the other issue.

A moment later, Holmes had hung up and was getting his coat from a rack on the wall.

“Someone has decided to mess with my business and I have to take care of it,” Sherlock announced calmly while taking a riding crop and walking to the door.

The blond doctor’s eyes widened at the choice of weapon while the dark tone of the other made him think of wrong, sexual, things. Still, the fact that Holmes wouldn’t even spare him a glance after being so close to doing… something… to him made the soldier feel a little sad and disappointed while the old feeling of resignation began to creep up his spine. His mind chanted the usual: “you should have known better… no one wants the old, never before really claimed, submissive… you always fall for the wrong ones…”

He let himself fall on the sinfully comfortable sofa and began to feel sorry for himself when the man who had prompted him on the self-pity journey reappeared.

“Would you like to be my bodyguard on this little walk?” Sherlock asked at once, while resting his weight on the side of the doorframe.

Watson looked at man adoringly before saying “yes” with his whole soul.

“Then go grab your Browning and come with me,” the young one said seriously while disappearing once again.

A car with a chauffeur was waiting for them at the door of the house. The chauffeur looked at the unassuming blond man with his boss intrigued, but being a professional and valuing his life, just opened the door for them and then got behind the steering wheel without making a sound.

John began to wonder what had he gotten into, but didn’t dare voice the question.

“Apart from my club, Gladstone, I have another little profitable business. You see, people who want to do certain things but don’t have the faintest clue of how to do it without being caught by the police come to me, and I help them plan and execute what they want. For a price, of course. Sometimes, they think that once they get what they want they don’t have to uphold their part of the deal…” Sherlock began to explain matter of factly. “I usually send Lestrade to deal with them…” At the mention of another, who so clearly had the brunette’s trust, Watson couldn’t help but feel a little pang of jealousy. “I’ll have to introduce you some day… oh, don’t make such a face, he is submissive but taken,” the man informed him, almost bothered at having to explain what apparently should have been obvious.

John looked to the side, fixing his gaze on the tainted window, not really knowing how to deal with the whole range of emotions running through him, and trying not to get the other unnecessarily mad at him. Some part of his mind told him that Sherlock was as dangerous as they come, and he seemed to be pretty on edge. Even if John was pretty confident that if Holmes got physically violent he could defend himself he didn’t really want to resort to that.

“I have a very tight control over myself, thank you very much, and I’d have expected you to have a little more faith in me,” the man spoke softly at his back, making him turn his head at once.

The doctor realized there wouldn’t be a time when he wouldn’t be surprised and awed at how well the taller man could read him. And he found himself wishing he had what it took to secure such a great dominant.

Sherlock smiled once again, and caressed the riding crop almost carelessly. He was perfectly aware of the way the green orbs followed his hand, and he almost told Billy to take another half an hour before the stop at their destination, but he decided that John deserved better. He would be made to submit in a safe environment, and Sherlock would take his time to explore and mark every inch of his skin. By the time he had finished with the short blond there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind about who John Watson belonged to.

“Do you know Black Peter’s bar?” Holmes asked suddenly, once more focused on the work at hand.

The former soldier felt taken aback at how easily the brunette could go from being almost flirtatious to cold and professional, but it also made him feel safe. He had seen how dangerous it could be when the ones in charge let their emotions cloud their better judgment.

“I can’t say I do,” John answered calmly

“It’s a very disreputable place,” Sherlock said with an evil smile. “But it has it’s uses… no one asks questions or sees a thing… and the back door leads to a very cozy dumping place.”

The doctor knew of course what all of it meant. He was about to become an accomplice in a murder. He had killed before, but he had done it convinced it was for the greater good, in a fight for a cause, and he wondered if refusing to do it just because Sherlock wanted it would hurt his slim chances of getting the other man as a dominant.

“Don’t be so slow, John. I wanted you as a submissive even before your eyes shone at the prospect of being able to kill again…”

“That’s not…” he began trying to defend himself.

“Don’t even try to lie to me…” Sherlock warned dangerously, moving closer to the shorter man. “You can say what you want to yourself. I personally think it’s a load of bullshit, you should accept and embrace what and who you are…”

“And what am I, Sherlock?” he asked, half mad at the man.

The brunette of course had been expecting that reaction and smiled while taking the blond by the nape and forcing his head back, making their gazes meet.

“A submissive with a penchant for danger, a hunter… and mine,” he declared before finally taken the other’s man lips, kissing him hard.

John let himself go, and his tongue soon joined the other’s. He wanted more, he needed to be taken and marked. He moaned softly and let his fingers get entangled in the black curls.

Sherlock, however, broke the kiss too soon for the blond’s taste, and stopped him with a look even before the doctor had the chance to move to take the thin lips for his own.

“We’re here and there is work to be done,” the tall man announced, opening the door and walking out.

John hated how he seemed so unaffected and admired him for it at the same time. He followed the man, already feeling the thrill of the hunt calling to his heart.

*****

They returned to 221b Baker Street several hours after they left it. They had taken care of the little rat who thought that could cheat Holmes of his share and now it was time to rectify their situation.

Mrs. Hudson was waiting for them to remind Sherlock that he still hadn’t called any of his clients and he told her in no uncertain terms that he didn’t want to be bothered until the next day. She didn’t seem very happy being told off, but then she looked at John and winked suddenly cheerful.

“Of course, dear, just remember I’m your secretary not your housekeeper,” and walked away, letting them get to the inner part of the house.

“Do you want some tea?” John asked while adrenaline still pumped through his veins and he wanted nothing more than to be dragged to the closest bedroom and taken by the tease that his dominant seemed to be.

Sherlock had made the little torture and killing session of the former associate a seductive scene, full of half promises and veiled threats. He had used the riding crop on the tied up man while telling John how he would use one on his skin, leaving red marks on it that would be felt for hours. He had proceeded to cut the man up while making promises of making passionate love to Watson as soon as they got back to his house. Eventually, he asked the former soldier if he wanted to finish the job or preferred Sherlock did it. He went as far as to reassure John that he would understand if he wanted to wait for it to be meaningful. Somehow, the blond had fallen into the trap of trying to test Holmes and he had said that he would wait. Then, with a quick movement the criminal had released their prisoner, whose injuries only made him more dangerous and he had obviously gone after the brunette.

John saw red, he took the gun concealed at his back and shot the other. A single bullet through the head…

Sherlock’s smile shone and he pushed Watson against the nearest wall to kiss him possessively once more…

“Once we are home I’m going to tie you to my bed and have you… I’m going to mark you inside and out until I’m the only thing you can think of. You’ll never be able to get away from me… I follow you everywhere you go…” he promised wholeheartedly while biting the side of his submissive’s neck, not hard enough to break the skin but enough to make John’s short walk to the car a little more difficult that it should have been.

Once in the car he had gotten on the phone and seemed to forget all about John, which he tried to pretend didn’t bothered him as much as it actually did. The doctor decided to try and ignore the talk that was taking place right at his side, but somehow he managed to catch that the brunette was talking to the one named Lestrade and that he had been forced to call someone by the name of Moriarty to investigate the not-quite-suicides which made Sherlock smile and say he always enjoy sparring with the little consulting detective and his pet, Moran. Somehow Watson was beginning to understand that this was were his relationship would go… always second to work

“I suppose I forget to tell you that…” the dominant said suddenly, while putting the phone away. “My job is vital to me, it keeps me entertained and I absolutely abhor ennui… my mind rebels at stagnation… but I can assure you, John, there won’t be a time I won’t want you…”

John smiled reassured, and moved closer to the criminal, deciding he had been patient enough. He wanted more, and he didn’t want to wait until they were home. However, Sherlock had other plans. He kept Watson at an arm’s length, enjoying the dark desire and frustration mounting in the former soldier. It was a game, of course. He had every intention of being true to his promises, but the blond didn’t need to know that just yet.

*****

“No, thank you,” Sherlock said, while moving predatorily towards the soldier who immediately was on guard, mostly because that was the way he had been trained to respond to any kind of threat.

But then, the submissive side of him recognized Holmes’s movements for what they were: the continuation of the claiming game he had begun earlier. Slowly he walked backwards, instinctually knowing that the younger would steer him in the appropriate direction should he get lost. He was herded into an enormous bedroom. The back of his knees touched the bed and Sherlock pushed him with enough strength to make him fall on the mattress.

John moved until his head was resting on a soft pillow and intensely watched the dominant who was eating him up with his grey eyes. The brunette licked his lips hungrily and moved over, mounting the blond and trapping his wrists over his head.

“I want you to listen to me very, very, carefully, John,” he said in a deceptively soft voice, so in control that it made John undulate under him. “I’m going to do as I said earlier, I’m going to tie you up and mark you,” Sherlock kept on while John realized that there were leather manacles hanging from the headboard of the bed and got mad at the thought of other submissives being in the same position he was today, even if he knew he had no right to feel jealous. “Please, John, there is no need for that… not when I’m about to take and lay claim to you…” he said while securing the smaller one’s wrists and taking a knife from somewhere at their side, making John a little worried and eliciting a cocky grin from the brunette. “I need to take that god-awful sweater off you… and any other thing that keeps your skin away from me…”

John was getting hotter by the second. The danger and the voice of Sherlock were making him hard, and he was about to beg when the man began to cut off his garments. He moaned loudly and his green eyes got almost black from desire.

“Don’t think for a minute I forgot about your little naughty thoughts about me using a riding crop on you… I’ll do that tomorrow morning… and it will be just the beginning. Later, if Lestrade and Mycroft are kind enough not to interrupt us which I highly doubt with Moriarty involved, I’ll introduce you to my nice little toy collection…”

By the time he finished his sentence, John was mostly naked and Sherlock began to explore the still tanned skin, which, as he had said, came with being stationed in the desert for long enough. He licked the perspired tissue, memorizing its taste and texture. The brunette was also cataloguing his submissive’s response to the different stimuli he was getting. He already knew that the neck was a major hot spot, so he focused on the strong chest, using his hands and teeth to feel it. He pinched and closed his mouth on different places, finding that John loved to have his nipples played with hard so he made note of getting out the clamps. Nice little surprise his soldier was.

Then he took off the blond’s trousers and underwear, moving down to take care of the shoes and socks, before going back to a frustrated looking doctor.

“I always deliver, my beautiful John,” he promised, knowing what Watson thought of him.

He let his short nails run from the calf to the waist of the former soldier, eliciting a soft whimper and enjoying the goose bumps it provoked.

“Please Sherlock!” he said at least unable to keep silent.

“That’s better,” the criminal encouraged him. “I want you telling me exactly what you want. I want you here with me… not pretending to be what everyone seems to tell submissives they should be. I love a demanding submissive!”

If he hadn’t been smitten with Sherlock Holmes from the moment they met, this would have clinched the matter for him.

“I want you to blow me… please?” he begged, not daring to look the other in the eye. That order was only too engrained in his core even if he had managed to fight it while in the army. But this was different; this was about them, about finding home and being claimed. He didn’t dare to put everything in danger because Sherlock seemed a little more liberal than most dominants in the bedroom.

“Look at me, John,” the brunette ordered at once, making his voice dark and hard.

Very slowly the smaller man met the grey orbs.

“Ask me again.”

“Please, Sherlock, blow me,” he asked softly, while his throbbing flesh was as hard as a diamond.

The brunette smiled.

“Soon,” he said, while moving upwards until he could kiss the soft, pliant lips. “First, things first…” he said biting down at the pulse point and then moving down to the place where the neck met the shoulder. It was a hard, claiming mark, and it made John howl.

It had been so long since he had been bitten like that.

He fought against the restraints, trying to touch Sherlock, to hug him and fix his mouth on his neck. John’s leg surrounded the slim waist and closed over it, almost crushing the man.

Sherlock smiled to himself. An unleashed John was certainly a sight to behold… John would be the perfect sub for him. He could now understand what Mycroft felt when he met Lestrade.

It was obvious that the blond was about to come, so he told the man to do it while he moved his tongue over the heated skin and murmured dark promises of a spanking session later as a punishment for soiling his clothes with his seed.

The doctor came at once, his mind in turmoil, his heart beating like a mad horse.

Sherlock waited for the submissive to relax a little and come out of his haze before moving slowly away, making sure the other knew it was just to take his now ruined clothes off.

“Now, my beautiful, I’m going to have my wicked way with you… and you’ll enjoy it so much you’ll never look at another again… And if you do, I can assure you that the dominant will find him or herself wishing they hadn’t even been born… And you my John… Will find yourself tied up to this bed for a week straight, gagged and with a cock ring for most of the time and at the other end of a whip frequently… Do I make myself clear?”

The picture the other made with his words shouldn’t have made him hot, but it did. And Sherlock’s eyes were shining almost evilly.

“Oh, you are just perfect, my pet… Most of the submissives tremble in fear when I speak like that, you find it daring…” he said in admiration, while he kissed the heated lips of the blond, and moved his hand around to fetch the lube. “But, I really don’t advise that you make me jealous, John.”

The doctor shook his head. Still there was a little voice in his mind that said that someday, somehow… Not quite for days on end, of course… But maybe just the day?

“Not soon, but yes, my beautiful…” he promised to John while a finger breached the puckered entrance of the doctor’s body.

John moaned. He wanted to touch Sherlock so badly, but the leather cuffs prevented him from it and he had begun to fight them almost unconsciously.

“Stop that, John… you’ll only hurt yourself,” the dominant said with a tone of finality. “I’ll free you when I’m good and ready…”

The voice was so erotic and so in control that the blond couldn’t resist but nod.

“Please, I want to touch you.”

“Not yet, my John,” he said simply, kissing the other side of the man’s neck while his fingers still worked inside the pliant body. Suddenly, he touched the sweet spot that made the former soldier squirm and yelp. He began to hit it mercilessly, enjoying the different sounds he could elicit from his lover according to the angle he used… Soon enough Sherlock realized it was high time to finally own Watson.

He prepared himself with hasty movements and aligned his cock to the already prepared entrance... Then he freed the restrained wrists of the sub before entering his body in a powerful thrust.

There were just too many sensations all at once for John, so he did the only thing he could think of, he hugged his dominant’s back and moved with him. The whole of his body focused on Sherlock’s. He was moaning and whimpering, his own voice sounding strange to his ears. Never had someone made him feel so free, so alive… so taken.

Every thrust of his dom sent him closer to another orgasm. John found himself clawing the pale back of the other with his nails, which only provoked the brunette to thrust harder.

They were soon at the verge of coming, and Sherlock decided to bite down on John’s skin once more, drawing blood and securing their bond. That was the moment that they both came, John yelling the criminal’s name unabashed. Later, he would worry about the neighbors hearing him, but right then and there he was far too satisfied and contented.

They eventually managed to get to the bathroom to clean themselves up before going back to their big bed. John’s eyes were closed the second Sherlock pulled him against his body, and let him get comfortable using his chest as a pillow. The claiming was always a very emotionally draining process the dominant knew so he let his beautiful pet get his well deserved rest.

Once he knew that John was fast asleep, he took his phone and began typing. Business waits for no one he had learnt early on in the game, and he wanted to know if Moriarty had gotten any closer to his web. He would soon have to deal with the pest, but it was so sad to get rid of a great mind... so much like his own.

Also he had a little something to arrange.

 

**I want to change John Hamish Watson’s status from unattached submissive to taken. SH**

**Take him to the closer office tomorrow and it’ll be done. MH**

**Just like you did with Lestrade? SH**

**Touché. I’ll take care of it. Congratulations, by the way. MH**

**Thank you. And don’t you dare come before 2 pm. SH**

**I wouldn’t dream of it. MH**

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me but to A.C.Doyle and BBC Network, I'm just playing around.
> 
>  
> 
> Feedback is very much appreciated, I love to know what reader thinks of my works.


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